


Bleed for Me

by rustycoralnipples



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood Kink, God Bless America - Freeform, Happy Independence Day, Killing Kink?, M/M, Pain Kink, Rimming, Smut, bruise kink, sin sin sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7390009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustycoralnipples/pseuds/rustycoralnipples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shouldn’t find this sexy. Well, he shouldn’t find John sexy, but that was another matter entirely. Wounds were supposed to be grotesque, blood sickening, bruises unsettling. But they weren’t. Instead they lit sparks inside him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleed for Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is full of violence and smut. If blood/injuries make you uncomfortable, don't read.

Alexander had always found a quiet battlefield unsettling. A battlefield was a living thing. It stammered out the click-pop of muskets, hissing out smoke in their wake. It drank up the blood of the wounded and fallen. It flexed and twisted beneath soldiers’ feet, welcomed bodies into its embrace.

But the battlefield was at rest now. The only sounds Alex could hear was his own ragged breathing and the rapid thrum of his heart.

He looked across the sleeping field and tried to count the corpses that slept with it. There were too many. He glanced down at the man at his feet. Blood stains hid themselves in the red of his coat. One hand was limply curled around his throat, as if it somehow would have stopped the spray of blood that burst from the slit. John Laurens slit that throat.

Hamilton had been distracted, caught up in his efforts to reload his gun. Through the whir of gunfire he hadn’t heard the enemy’s approach. He only felt the burning barrel of a pistol against his neck. He winced, remembering the heat of the mettle. The barrel was only there for a moment before Alex heard a familiar voice say, “Drop the fucking gun.”

He heard it hit the ground with a muffled thump and thought that was the end of it. He turned around in time to see Laurens drag his knife quickly across the man’s throat. The blood hit his face with palpable force, the shower continuing downwards as the man fell.

Alex could taste the blood now. He considered that it might also be his blood, as all men’s blood tastes the same. He tore his eyes from the battlefield and looked at John. He still had a white-knuckled grip on his knife and a wild look in his eyes.

“John…” he said cautiously, not wanting to startle him.

John did not stir. He put some force behind his voice and tried again.

“John.”

Laurens broke from his trance, loosening the grip on his knife and looking at Alex.

“Jesus Christ, Ham,” he muttered. “You’re a mess.”

“So are you,” Hamilton replied.

And he was. His coat was torn in several places, blood seeping through the rough-cut holes. His face was already threatening to bruise, and Alex had no doubt there were bruises elsewhere. His hair had freed itself from the tight knot John usually tied it into and it hung like a greasy veil around his face. Alex had no doubt he looked the same.

They silently agreed to walk back to their tent together. Alex grew more and more anxious as they neared their destination. He was afraid to be alone with his companion. Seeing John kill a man caused something within him to stir. He’d felt this before, of course, but never quite so intensely. A primal action had caused a primal reaction and Alex fought against the heat that was rising within him.

Once they were inside the tent John made quick work of shedding the outer layers of his clothing. His shirt clung to his back, stuck to it with a mix of sweat and blood. Alex could have sworn he heard a sound as John peeled it off.

This definitely wasn’t the first time he’d seen his dear Laurens without a shirt. That was the way he slept. But this was different. John’s back was covered in bruises, seemingly piled on top of each other. Angry scratches ran in every direction across his tan skin. The wounds were shallow and the blood was crusted over them.

He shouldn’t find this sexy. Well, he shouldn’t find John sexy, but that was another matter entirely. Wounds were supposed to be grotesque, blood sickening, bruises unsettling. But they weren’t. Instead they lit sparks inside him.

John went to comb his hand through his hair, his muscles flexing with the motion, and Alex’s mouth betrayed him by letting a whimper stumble past his lips. It was quiet compared to the events of the day, but in their tiny tent it was almost deafening. John lowered his arm and turned towards Alex.

“Does it look bad?” he questioned.

Alex was frozen in shock, desperately wanting to melt into the ground.

John came closer and repeated the question.

“Does it look bad?”

John was so close Alex could feel the heat radiating from his body. He felt crowded upon, claustrophobic. Then he moved ever closer, and with their noses almost touching, he whispered:

“Or does it look good?”

Alex’s eyes went wide and his mouth went dry.

“I- I don’t-” he stuttered.

“Your body betrays you, Alexander,” Laurens murmured. “You’re barely breathing. Your eyes are dark.” He placed his hands on his shoulders. “My god, you’re shaking,” he chuckled softly. “And I bet if I were to…”

John ended his sentence by pressing his thigh against Alex’s groin, not surprised to find him already mostly hard. He gasped, his knees buckling. John was there to catch him.

“Ah. Is this what you want?”

Alex groaned.

“Hamilton. Use your words. You’re so _good_ with them.”

The _“good_ ” was punctuated with another movement of John’s thigh and Alex’s dignity abandoned him.

“Yes,” he whined. “God, yes.”

Laurens pulled him into a rough kiss. His tongue was pushing against Alex’s lips almost immediately and he allowed it to slip past them. John moaned, the vibrations causing Alex’s lips to tingle. He bit the other’s lip in response. It was enough to break the skin, and now Alex could taste the mixture of John’s blood, his blood, and the blood of the stranger his lover had killed. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

John pushed the coat off the smaller man’s shoulders before moving on to his shirt. He fiddled with the buttons briefly before getting frustrated and deciding to simply rip it off. He tossed it aside carelessly before moving his hands to Alex’s hips and guiding him towards his cot. He pushed him down on his back and straddled him, looming over him possessively. His chest looked similar to his back, a map of cuts and bruises.

Hamilton ran his hands up and down John’s chest gently, carefully minding the wounds. John pressed down into the touch, pushed against it until he was satisfied with the pain it induced. He removed Alex’s hands and leaned forward until their chests were flush against each other. The contact felt electric, charged with pain and pleasure. John began to lay sloppy kisses down Alex’s jaw. He scraped his teeth across his neck before sucking a bruise on his collarbone. Alex made some ungodly noise that went straight to John’s cock. He ground his crotch down against Alex’s own erection, which earned another keening whine.

“You’re fucking filthy, you know that?” he panted into Alex’s ear. “Covered in blood. You reek of it.” He nipped at the lobe. “And that mouth. Whining like a whore, desperate to get fucked.”

Alex bucked his hips in search of more friction.

“ _Yes,”_ he moaned.

John broke the contact, using his knees to keep Alex’s hips down.

“Yes, what?”

“Fuck me. I need it. I need _you_ ,” he replied quietly.

“Yeah?” Alex nodded. “Beg for it.”

“Oh god, John, please. Please fuck me. Please, I’ll be so good. Just take me. Fill me up, mark me up, whatever you want. You’re right, I’m a filthy whore. I’m a filthy, dirty, disgusting whore and I _need_ you.”

That was all the convincing John needed. He worked his way down Alex’s body, bruising and scratching up his chest. He bit down on a nipple, perhaps too hard, but Alex loved it. He continued lower, stopping to yank off his trousers. His cock stood proudly, flushed and already leaking. John ignored it for the moment, skipping down to Alex’s thighs and lavishing them with rough kisses. He nipped at the spot where his thigh met his pubic bone, and Alex squirmed with pleasure. He let out a frustrated sigh, anxious for more contact.

Laurens took the hint and firmly licked a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip before sucking hard on the head.

“Fuck,” Alex whispered harshly.

John didn’t spend much time there, too eager to move onto other tasks. He spread Alex’s legs further apart to give him better access to his hole. He spread his cheeks and slipped his tongue between them. Alex practically howled, and John dug his nails into his legs to quiet him. He continued to lap at his entrance as Alex shook beneath him. His thighs quivered sporadically, the muscle flexing and relaxing involuntarily. Once John was satisfied with the wetness of Alex’s hole, he sat up and presented him with his fingers.

“Suck,” he commanded.

Alex took his fingers into his mouth. John’s fingers tasted like salt and gunpowder, and they were covered in rough calluses. He swirled his tongue around them, wetting them thoroughly. John withdrew them after a few moments. He used one to circle Alex’s entrance before slowly pushing it past the ring of muscle.

Alex hissed at the pain, a combination of the initial intrusion and the sting of powder. John took his time inserting the rest of his finger down to the knuckle. He waited for Alex to give the go-ahead before he began moving it in and out. After a few minutes he was ready for another. As time passed John began to scissor them, stretching Alex out before finally adding a third. He curled them up in search of his prostate. He pushed his fingers gently against it and Alex gasped sharply.

“Again,” he moaned. John obeyed.

“Again.”

John shook his head. “You’ll have to wait until I hit it with my cock.”

Alex whined when he withdrew his fingers. He quickly grabbed the box of medical supplies they kept in their tent. He searched through it until he found the small jar of ointment. John removed his own trousers before returning to the bed, smirking at the way Alex’s mouth practically watered.

He opened the jar and scooped out a generous amount to lather his cock, using what was left over to further lubricate Alex’s hole. When he was done he settled himself between the other man’s legs and lined himself up with his entrance, pressing the head of his cock against it. He looked down at his anxious lover.

“Breathe,” he said gently.

And with that John breeched him, sinking in inch by inch until he was completely sheathed. Alex was tight and impossibly warm around him. John could tell he was tense, so he kissed him until he relaxed.

“Move,” Alex urged.

John began to withdraw himself slowly, freeing half his cock before pushing back in. Alex nodded and he repeated the motion, this time withdrawing more. He worked up to a steady pace, rocking back and forth while Alex made breathy noises below him. He dug his nails into John’s ass, silently willing him to go faster. He sped up and soon he was slamming into Alex relentlessly. He angled himself strategically and rammed against his prostate, tearing a sob from his throat. John felt his nails rake across his back as he hit the spot over and over. The tent was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, John’s panting, and Alex’s increasingly high-pitched moans.

“John- ah- John!”

John grunted in acknowledgment.

“I’m-fuck- I-I’m close.”

John grunted again and wrapped his hand around Alex’s cock. He stroked it roughly a few times before he was coming. He moaned out a stream of curses and “Johns” and “yes’s.” His hands clawed desperately at John’s back. The noises Alex made and the way he clenched around him were enough to send him toppling over the edge as well. His hips stuttered as he spilled into Alex, a groan emerging from deep in his throat.

When John was spent he pulled out of Alex, both of them wincing at the post-orgasmic sensitivity. He rolled over on his back and breathed deeply. The tent smelled of sex, sweat, and blood. Alex kissed him lazily, occasionally taking breaks to whisper sweet things in his ear. John combed his fingers through his hair

“We need to clean up,” he muttered after several minutes.

Alex sighed. “Don’t wanna.”

John ignored his protest and fetched a rag and his canteen from his bag. He wet the fabric before wiping off Alex’s chest.

“Wash your face,” he ordered, gesturing to the basin in the corner. Alex got up begrudgingly and did as he was told. When he was done he turned to John.

“There,” he sighed. “All clean.”

John smiled and shook his head. “Nah. You’ll always be dirty.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the filthiest thing I've ever written. Thanks for reading.  
> s/o to my friend Devin for helping me with all of my gun powder questions.  
> Additional s/o to the Founding Fathers for fighting for my freedom to write porn about them.


End file.
